


The Devil In Your Backyard

by PaulHeymanGirl



Series: And Eternal I Endure [2]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Supernatural Elements, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2256624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaulHeymanGirl/pseuds/PaulHeymanGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We are all so full of sin, Mr. Rollins.  Some people can be cleansed but some are meant to just indulge. To luxuriate in what taints their souls.  And those big ones?” He let out a low whistle.  “Those can change a man like nothing else.</p><p>(The Raw after Payback 2014 put into a different perspective.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil In Your Backyard

**Author's Note:**

> (Set within the same timeline as "Lost," though neither is entirely necessary to understand the other. You should probably still read that story first, though.)

Seth pulls at his left glove, revealing more of his skin as he studies the pattern of veins at his wrist.  He slowly traces the index finger of his right hand along the blue lines until they fade and disappear.  He looks closer, wondering if he’ll be able to see it.

He knows it doesn’t matter.  He can already feel it.

“Something wrong?” Roman’s voice rumbles from beside him and Seth is pulled back into the moment.  They’re backstage, a location chosen more for covert ops and less for comfort.  It’s about 24 hours since they destroyed Evolution for the second time, with emphasis, causing themselves a good share of damage in the meantime.

“I’m fine,” Seth says, pulling his glove back on.

“You sure?” Roman asks, his glance at Seth’s wrist telling.  “If you’re hurting or something…”

“Nah,” Seth says.  “Well, okay, some hurting, the stuff you already know about.  But this is fine.”  He rolls his wrist easily to prove his point.

Roman claps him on the shoulder.  “Great.  Now, you wanna help me with him?”

Seth glances behind them to see Dean Ambrose leaning against the wall, eyes already wild for the fight and lips moving as if he’s in an intense hushed conversation with someone only he can see.  At one point he raises his arms, curling his hands into fists, looking like he’s about to either throw or block a punch.

“Hey, Dean,” Seth says, approaching the snarling Ambrose.  “Hey,” he reaches out, resting a hand on Dean’s shoulder.  Ambrose does a double take, as if at first he doesn’t realize there’s anyone else in the room with him.  “Save some of it for the actual fight,” Seth says.

“I got plenty,” Dean replies, but he still lowers his arms and lets some of the tension in his body release.  “I got all of it.  Can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I think I got too much.”

Roman snorts out a laugh.  “I can’t believe it, either.”

“Fuck off,” Dean snaps.  “It’s not funny.”

Before the other two can make a move, Seth puts a hand behind Dean’s neck and pulls him away from the wall, leaning in to rest their foreheads together.  The way Seth does it is grounding, the contact meant to sooth Dean as much as it can.  But when Seth does it these days it feels like something else, brings back too many memories of that night he and Dean pointedly Do Not Ever Talk About.  For that reason he tries not to use this, hating the things that hang between the two of them, hating even more that Dean doesn’t seem to even acknowledge they might be there.  But tonight more than ever this kind of thing is necessary.

  
  


_ “What the fuck did you do to him?” _

_ Seth stared down Bray Wyatt, aware of Harper and Rowan’s presence in the shadows around them, but beyond caring at this point.  His shoulders shook with the same rage that was fixed in his dark eyes. _

_ Bray simply rocked back and forth in that damned chair, giving Seth a once-over with a slight amused grin. “Well, well, well, isn’t this a surprise.  You were not the Hound of Justice I was expecting to see this soon.” _

_ Seth grit his teeth.  “I’m going to ask you again: what the fuck did you do to him?” _

_ “You mean Mr. Ambrose?  Interesting boy, isn’t he?  In all my years I have never witnessed a soul quite so full of rage.”  Bray leaned forward, resting a forearm on his knees.  “And I have seen many souls and much rage in my time, Mr. Rollins.” _

_ “No, fuck you, cut the shit,” Seth started to take a step forward, then felt Harper draw closer to him, body tensed and ready to attack.  “Cut the snake cult mind games bullshit and tell me in plain fucking English what you did to Dean Ambrose.” _

_ “Strange how the minds of men struggle for what they think is rational when the plain truth is right in front of them,” Bray said.  “So much wasted time, useless mental battles.”  He sighed. “But if you must hear it plainly, I did nothing to Mr. Ambrose, or to yourself for that matter, that you didn’t invite.” _

_ Seth’s heart pounded in his chest.  “To me?  You didn’t do anything to me.” _

_ Bray laughed and sat back, adjusting his ever-present hat.  “We are all so full of sin, Mr. Rollins.  Some people can be cleansed but some are meant to just indulge. To luxuriate in what taints their souls.  And those big ones?” He let out a low whistle.  “Those can change a man like nothing else. _

_ “Ambrose is a creature of wrath.  We can agree on that, I hope.  Wrath shows itself early, obvious symptoms of a deeper need to fight and claw and spill blood.” _

_ Seth thought back to Dean, hunched over in the hotel bathroom and vomiting blood.  Then his body went cold, his heart still echoing against his rib cage.  “You’re talking about the seven deadly sins.” _

_ “I’m talking about a force that can fill a man with pure rage but no direction to aim it in,” Wyatt corrected.  “But if someone were so inclined they could find a way to steer that creature of fury.  Someone intimately familiar with the ways of wrath of war and fire.  Someone like myself.” _

_ “No,” Seth said, finally understanding.  “No, you’re not getting near him.” _

_ Bray hooted out a laugh.  “I suppose you’ll be the one to stop me?  Son, you won’t be in any position to do that.  Wrath comes on faster than the others, but in the end they all manifest themselves and they all tear their owners apart.  You were there, too, when you boys accepted the terms.  Somewhere, under that oh-so-pretty surface of yours, you’re changing.  Everyone has a sin.  And I remain very interested in knowing what yours is.” _

_ This time Seth rushed forward, taking only a few steps before he felt both Harper and Rowan restrain him.  He struggled against their grips in vain, screaming at Wyatt.  “How can you say we asked for this?  None of us would have asked for this!  You lying son of a bitch!” _

_ Wyatt finally stood, approaching Seth and staring down at him with cold, cold eyes.  “I warned you.  I was very clear when you boys started our little war.  Careful inviting the Devil in to your backyard, ‘cause he may just like it and decide to stay.” _

_ Seth went limp, the fight going out of him for the moment as the shock settled in.  Bray nodded to his boys and they let go of Seth’s arms, stepping back from him dutifully.  Bray then turned his back and waited. _

_ Seth stumbled, then righted himself, setting his shoulders in a pantomime of defiance.  But that was all he could manage to do.  He had the bastard right there and he couldn’t move.  His chest felt too heavy, his legs too stiff. _

_ Without looking over his shoulders, Bray announced “If I were a gambling man, Seth Rollins, I’d be willing to take the odds that you are Pride.” _

 

“You good?” Seth asks Dean, his gloved hand curling in a familiar way around the other man’s head.

Dean hesitates for a moment, then nods the slightest bit.  “Yeah.  I’m great.”  He grits his teeth and breaks out into an entirely unpleasant grin, eyes lighting up.  “I’m fucking great.”

“Gameplan?” Roman asks, giving Seth the opening he needs to pull away from Dean.  “Same as the last two rounds?”

Seth shakes his head.  “Tonight the idea is survival.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean asks.  “Come on, we’ve beaten these guys twice, no problem, and this time there’s only two of ‘em.”

“The last two times, Hunter’s been counting on going strength against strength or seeing who was the more vicious,” Seth says.  “This time we have him outnumbered and outgunned.  He’s not gonna let us keep that advantage if he can help it.  You don’t get to call yourself The Cerebral Assassin for nothing.”

“Why would you want to?” Dean asks.  “It’s the stupidest name.  What does that even mean?” 

“He assassinates people,” Roman says.  “Cerebrally.  With a Cerebra.”

“That’s...no, that’s not...look, the meaning isn’t important,” Seth insists, trying to get them back on track.  “Point is that he’s got something planned tonight.  Whatever it is, it won’t be a problem.  But we need to stay on task.  Get out there, stay alert, survive.”

“And believe in the Shield,” Roman adds, extending his arm for their salute.

Dean, eyes bright with something reminding them of lightning about to strike (reminding you of what it was like to kiss him, Seth’s traitor brain supplies) follows, his fist extended and held beside Roman’s.

If the cold Seth can feel creeping up his spine makes him hesitate for even a moment too long, the other two don’t notice.  They don’t suspect.  They believe.

 

_ “You weren’t followed?” _

_ Seth shook his head.  “The other two are licking their wounds.  Told them I needed some air.” _

_ Triple H nodded in approval from behind the bar in his penthouse hotel suite.  “Simplest cover story is often the best.  You want a drink?” _

_ “I’m fine, thanks,” Seth said, shifting his weight awkwardly and taking in his surroundings.  Parts of him were busy figuring out where the ambush had to be coming from, there was no actual way the man he’d just help humiliate had actually asked him here just to chat.  The rest of him, though, that growing cold he’d been trying to ignore for the past few months, that was sure he was safe and that the “unique opportunity” Hunter was offering was legit.  It had to be. _

_ “Suit yourself,” Hunter said.  He crossed to the plush couch and sat down, sighing as he sank into the cushions.  He then gestured to a chair near his position.  “Have a seat.” _

_ Seth did, his body language a balance between cocky (“I know I deserve to be here”) and warning (“I know better than to trust you”).  Hunter’s reaction remained neutral, neither impressed or disappointed, just observing. _

_ “Have to say I’m surprised,” Seth began.  “Two hours ago I damn near killed you and now you’re offering me a cocktail?” _

_ “Don’t flatter yourself, kid,” Hunter said.  “You didn’t ‘damn near’ kill me.  You’re good, but I’ve gone toe-to-toe with the best of them and you’re not there yet.  But, uh, this little faction you put together. This thing you built.  That’s impressive.” _

_ “I didn’t build it,” Seth said, the new cold in him tightening in response to that claim.  “We all built it.” _

_ “That’s a great line for the crowds and your cannon fodder,” Hunter said.  “But I think we both know the truth.  I’ve been watching you long enough.  Your impatience.  Your drive.  The fact that you don’t just want to be on top, but you believe you deserve it.  And if you knew you could get it, right now, you’d drop your so-called ‘brothers’ in an instant.” _

_ “And if I were to separate myself from my...business partners?” Seth asked _

_ Hunter leaned forward, pushing a folder across the coffee table towards Seth.  Seth flipped it open, looked at the contents and raised his eyebrows at what he saw. _

_ “It’s not just the increased salary,” Hunter said.  “Though, I’m sure that’s not exactly a negative.  You’re looking at the chance to be a main event star. Full time. No sharing the spotlight with those other two. The man who built the Shield gets everything he deserves and more and he doesn’t have to owe it to anyone beneath him. And all you have to do is tear down the very thing you built.” _

_ The thing that had been growing inside of Seth Rollins since February finally asserted itself fully with one very clear thought: maybe deals with the devil weren’t so bad after all. _

 

Seth swallows it, holds it at bay until they’re in the ring, until he’s gripping the chair so hard he’s sure his knuckles are actually white, until he’s mentally pleading with it to just give him a few more minutes, he needs this, he can’t lose this.

Then, it overtakes him.  Everything feels different, but he can’t tell that anything’s changed.

He doesn’t feel anything as he swings the chair for Roman’s back.

And there’s only one small inconsequential part of him left that doesn’t derive actual joy from the look of pained betrayal in Dean’s eyes.

 

Later, he tells Hunter and Orton to go on ahead, he’ll catch up in a few.  There’s a questioning look from Orton, but apparently Hunter’s convinced enough of his loyalty to allow it.  So he’s alone in the shadows when he hears the voice behind him.

“Abigail always said that pride was the one that snuck up on you.  Guess your boy learned that tonight, didn’t he?” Bray Wyatt lets out a smoky little laugh.  “And I guess you learned you couldn’t save him.  Not that it weighs on your mind any longer.”

Seth turns around, letting Bray get a good look at the smirk on his own face. “Did Abigail ever tell you the best thing about pride, Bray? Right now there’s nothing I can’t do.  Nothing that I can’t outsmart.  And when I knew you were right, that I couldn’t get away from this?  Bray.  Really.  There’s always a Plan B.”

He steps forward.  “I’ve known Dean Ambrose for a long time.  As his friend and as his enemy and as...The Shield.  I don’t need to see into his soul to predict what he’ll do.  Dean Ambrose doesn’t forget and he doesn’t forgive.  So, what I did to him tonight?  What I plan to keep doing to him from here on out?  That wrath you’re so desperate to put to work for you will be aimed directly at me.  And you and your boys and your rants and your Abigail?  Won’t be able to sway him from that.”  Seth lets out a little laugh, pleased with himself.

Bray sneers.  “Why do you even care?  He shouldn’t even be a worry to you.  You should be so high up on your tower by now...”

Seth locks eyes with the Wyatt leader.  “Bray, have you ever kissed pure chaos? No, better yet: has pure chaos ever kissed you? And really meant it?  Because that is something you never forget.”

There’s a long, heavy pause between them.

“You love him,” Bray says it with a clear air of disgust.

“Not any more,” Seth says.  “It’s not love.  I just don’t want him to stop thinking about me. And honestly?  Maybe I just wanted to be the one who outsmarted the devil.”

 

He’s long out of earshot before Bray whispers “Liar.”


End file.
